Slightly Muddled
by Lindelea1
Summary: Fondly dedicated to all those of us who've included American slang in our efforts all unwitting... (now COMPLETE in 8 chapters, imagine that. don't lynch me.)
1. Slightly Muddled

'Sam, you're looking a bit green,' Frodo said, worried. 'Strider!' he called ahead. 'Strider, I think we need to stop a bit early, Sam's not well.'  
  
The Ranger immediately turned to assess the situation. He placed the back of his hand to the hobbit's forehead. 'You're not feverish,' he said. 'What seems to be the trouble?'  
  
'Something I ate is disagreeing with me, I think,' Sam answered.  
  
'We've all eaten the same thing,' the Ranger mused.  
  
'What about those greens we nibbled along the way?' Pippin asked. 'Remember, when we went through that patch of mint?' The hobbits were always hungry, and sometimes browsed on familiar plants as they walked. At first Strider had checked what they picked, but their selections were always wholesome and added good elements to the rather limited trail diet, so he relaxed his guard after some days and trusted their judgment.  
  
The Ranger straightened abruptly. 'Mint?' he said sharply.  
  
'What is it, Strider?' Frodo asked, concerned.  
  
Boromir had come up and was silently listening. Now he said, 'Are you thinking...?'  
  
The Ranger nodded. 'They wouldn't be familiar with it, as it doesn't grow in the North where they're from, and looks a good deal like mint. It grows under the same conditions as mint, and one might not notice the flavour if a little got mixed into a handful of mint.'  
  
'What?' Merry asked, being interested in herblore.  
  
'Anachronos,' Strider answered, and Boromir looked worried.  
  
'What?'  
  
'It's also known as muddlewort,' Boromir said.  
  
'Muddlewort?' Gimli asked. 'I've never heard of it.'  
  
'Nor I,' said Legolas.  
  
'It does not grow in northern climes,' Boromir said. 'We've learned to avoid it in southern lands.' His face was grave as he noticed Sam starting to sway. 'Let's ease him down.' He suited action to words. They soon had Sam propped against a rock, well-wrapped in blankets.  
  
'How are you feeling, Sam?' Frodo asked gently.  
  
'Hunky-dory,' Sam muttered, and then his eyes widened as he heard what had come out of his mouth. 'I mean... a-okay...' his voice trailed off in confusion.  
  
'It's starting to affect him already,' Strider muttered.  
  
'What can we do, Strider?' Frodo asked anxiously.  
  
'Samwise, do you still have that bit of soap?' Strider asked softly, stroking his hair back from his forehead. 'We can mix up a solution of soapy water, it'll act as an emetic.'  
  
'A what?' Pippin said, confused.  
  
'It'll make him heave,' Merry explained. Pippin's face twisted in sympathy.  
  
'Soap, Samwise?' Strider repeated.  
  
Sam nodded weakly. 'Wrapped up in the washcloth in my pack,' he said.  
  
'The what?'  
  
'I think he means the flannel,' Boromir put in helpfully. 'You do use a flannel for washing, after all.'  
  
Strider looked to Frodo. 'Can you dig it out for me?' he asked.  
  
Frodo jumped to obey, eager to do anything to help his Sam. 'Right away!' he said. Digging through Sam's ordered pack, he came across quite a few unexpected items. The soap was near the top, but Frodo made a mental note to himself that he needed to ask Sam later about the extra weight he was bearing.  
  
Strider sliced a sliver from the bar and whipped up a frothy drink. Sam made a wry face at the taste but bravely drank all down, guzzling as quickly as he could. It didn't take long for him to start spewing violently, and the Ranger nodded in grim satisfaction.  
  
Finally, he leaned back miserably against Frodo. 'Can we do anything for you, Sam?' his master asked gently.  
  
'What I wouldn't give for a cookie to take away that taste,' he muttered.  
  
'Cookie? He wants something cooked, perhaps,' Gimli muttered.  
  
'A good idea,' Aragorn said. 'It'll do Sam good, I think, to have a full stomach. It might help him fight the effect of the muddlewort.'  
  
Gimli soon had a fire going, and the Ranger put together a meal of sorts from their supplies. He arranged it as attractively as he could on a plate, remembering the pains Sam always took with Frodo's meals.  
  
'Here, Sam,' he urged. 'Try to get some of this down.'  
  
'My, we're really puttin' on the Ritz,' Sam said, eyebrows raised. Strider usually just threw a spoonful of stew on a plate and tossed a hunk of waybread on the side.  
  
'I don't know what you said,' Strider teased gently, 'but you're welcome. Eat up.'  
  
'Don't mind if I do,' Sam said, and dug the spoon into the stew. After a few bites, he sighed. 'Sure could use some java to wash it all down.'  
  
'He means tea, I think,' Pippin said, bringing a steaming cup from the fire. 'Here you go, Sam.' Sam accepted the drink shyly, more used to serving than being served.  
  
'Are you quite comfortable?' Frodo asked, settling again next to his gardener.  
  
'It's almost as good as being in my own living room on the couch,' Sam said cheerfully. He giggled.  
  
'Sam?' Frodo asked.  
  
'Don't get your knickers in a twist, Frodo-Mister, I'm as tight as a drum,' Sam said cheerfully.  
  
The hobbits stared at him in dismay. 'He's not making any sense at all,' Pippin said softly.  
  
Strider shooed them off to eat their own suppers. 'I'll watch with Sam awhile,' he said.  
  
'We can shoot the breeze,' Sam said agreeably.  
  
'What's that?'  
  
'Chew the fat?' Sam added helpfully.  
  
'Are you still hungry, Sam?' the Ranger asked. 'Or how about some more to drink?'  
  
'Negatory. My back teeth are already floating. I think I've gotten enough eats,' Sam said with a contented sigh. His eyelids began to droop.  
  
'That's it, Samwise,' Aragorn said, pulling a blanket around the afflicted hobbit. 'You'll be better after you sleep it off.'  
  
Samwise was already snoring when the other hobbits finished their dinners and gathered around him with their own blankets.  
  
'Is he going to be all right?' Frodo asked softly as Aragorn rose to get his own meal before taking a turn at watch.  
  
The Ranger smiled down at the Ring-bearer. 'O yes, Frodo,' he said. 'I think he'll be just... hunky-dory... by morning.' 


	2. More Muddled, by popular demand

Chapter 2. More Muddled  
  
Pippin awakened to someone slapping at him, feet kicking him, Merry's voice muttering incoherently. He pulled out of the group of sleeping hobbits, eliciting a protest from Frodo as his covers were pulled away. 'Merry! Wake up! You're having a nightmare!' He shook his older cousin, but Merry didn't open his eyes, just kept up a stream of incomprehensible gibberish.  
  
Sam sat up, regarding them blearily. 'He's about as confused as a woodpecker in a concrete forest,' he said. Nudging Pippin, he added, 'You'd better go get the head honcho, I'll hold down the fort.' Sam jerked his chin towards Aragorn's sleeping form, and Pippin divined his meaning.  
  
Slipping from the blankets without further disturbing Frodo (and at that, he saw Sam smooth the blankets carefully over his cousins again) Pippin crept to where the Ranger was sleeping. From the shapes on the ground, he figured out that Legolas was somewhere on watch, probably in one of the trees above him. Standing well back from the blanketed form, Pippin hissed, 'Strider!' Aragorn instantly rolled to his feet, knife in hand.  
  
Seeing Pippin before him, he sheathed his knife. 'What is it, Pippin?' he asked.  
  
'Something's wrong with Merry,' Pippin gulped.  
  
The Ranger said something under his breath, then tapped the mound of fur- lined cloak covered by blanket that was Boromir. As the man of Gondor surfaced, the Ranger whispered, 'More muddlewort trouble, I fear.'  
  
'The others showed no sign...' Boromir said slowly.  
  
'Yes, but can it not affect people at different rates?' Aragorn asked.  
  
Boromir shook his head slowly. 'We know so little of the herb... mainly to avoid it.' He considered a moment, then met the Ranger's eyes. 'We'd better assume all of them to be affected.' Looking to Pippin, he said, 'You all ate of the mint, did you not?' The youngest hobbit nodded nervously. At a cry from Merry, Boromir strode quickly to the huddle of hobbits.  
  
Aragorn fixed him with a piercing gaze, he could see its intensity even in the pale moonlight. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.  
  
'Fine!' Pippin said. 'You're not going to feed me soap, are you?' At the Ranger's sober nod, he sighed. 'Let's get it over with, then.'  
  
Quickly the Ranger mixed another frothy cup, and Pippin, holding his nose, gulped it down. Just drinking the brew was enough to make him want to heave, and gagging at the vile taste, he said, 'Whoa, that was really gross.' His eyes widened, and he said, 'So it's got me too?'  
  
'I fear it must be so,' Aragorn nodded. Just then, the soapy water did the trick and Pippin found himself disgorging the contents of his stomach. The Ranger supported him through the fit, then gently lifted him in his arms. 'Let us wrap you warmly and get some tea into you,' he said. 'The muddlewort has had time to work, and we have a fight ahead of us.'  
  
Boromir had mixed more of the soap solution and was forcing it into Merry, who fought him as well as a halfling could fight a warrior twice his size. Boromir was constrained by his desire not to hurt the little one, but Merry felt no such compunction, and several of his blows and kicks landed to good (or bad, as it were) effect before the man of Gondor got the whole of the mug into the hobbit.  
  
'Why, Boromir, you're bleeding like a stuck pig!' Pippin exclaimed as the man turned from his task. One of Merry's fists had apparently connected solidly with the man's nose.  
  
Boromir pinched his nose shut with his fingers and tilted his head back. 'I'b all right,' he said rather nasally. He quickly staunched the bleeding, then let go his nose and nodded carefully to Aragorn. 'We must not delay,' he said. 'Every moment is precious.'  
  
As the Men turned to Frodo, Sam grasped his master protectively. 'Hey,' he said. 'None of that! Let sleeping dogs lie!'  
  
Aragorn knelt to address the little gardener-turned-bodyguard. 'Samwise,' he said urgently. 'We can't take any chances. I was foolish earlier, assuming that you were the only one who ate the anachronos because you showed early effects and the others didn't.'  
  
Frodo awakened reluctantly. 'Is it time to get up already?' he said, then saw the cup Boromir held out. 'O good,' he said, 'some tea. I really need it. For some reason I felt as if I haven't slept at all.'  
  
'You haven't,' Sam said, and Aragorn began to hope that as far as Sam was concerned, the worst was over.  
  
Frodo, not paying attention, took the cup and started to drink eagerly, only to gag. 'Who made this tea, Pippin?' he said. 'Must've been brewed with the water not properly on the boil, or something.'  
  
'I didn't make it, and it's not tea,' Pippin retorted. 'And Merry's as sick as a dog, you ought to know.'  
  
Frodo turned worried eyes to Aragorn. 'Pippin, too?' he asked. The Ranger nodded. 'And Merry?'  
  
'Merry's the worst affected, thus far,' Aragorn said soberly. 'Muddlewort can be deadly, Frodo. You must be prepared for the worst.' He sighed. 'I only wish I'd had the foresight to treat you all at the same time I treated Samwise. How could I have been so careless?'  
  
'Yeah,' Samwise growled. 'When you're up to your ass in alligators, it's a little late to remember the original objective was to drain the swamp.'  
  
'Bottoms up, Frodo,' Pippin said, pushing at the mug, noticing that most of the contents remained. 'I know it tastes pretty gnarly, but it's really not too bad...'  
  
'You lie like a rug,' Frodo answered, and shook himself. 'Uh-oh. I'd better chug-a-lug, hadn't I?' he said soberly.  
  
'Bottoms up!' Pippin repeated cheerily, then giggled. 


	3. Muddled, Indeed

Chapter 3. Very Muddled, Indeed  
  
Dawn was streaking the sky as Frodo lost the last of his dinner. Because they'd stopped early, the hobbits had actually been able to do some of their sleeping in the dark, but now they settled back into their blankets as the light slowly increased, blinking with weariness.  
  
'Strider,' Frodo murmured, thinking Pippin had fallen back to sleep. The Ranger bent to him. 'What did you mean when you said "deadly", before?'  
  
'Just what I said, Frodo,' Aragorn answered, crouching by the Ring-bearer and keeping his voice low. 'Muddlewort is a deadly poison. If you take but a little, it will muddy your thinking and confuse your speech. But too much leads to violent behaviour, convulsions... and death.'  
  
Frodo looked anxiously to Merry, who had stopped struggling and now lay ominously still. 'He was kicking up a storm, earlier,' he said worriedly.  
  
The Ranger nodded, self-blame all too evident. 'I should have treated all of you at the same time I treated Samwise,' he repeated.  
  
The Ring-bearer put a small, but comforting hand on his arm. 'You didn't know, Strider. Ignorance is bliss.'  
  
Pippin called softly in his sleep. 'Mommy...'  
  
Frodo rolled over to enfold his young cousin in a hug. 'It's all right, Pippin.'  
  
'I want my teddy bear,' the young hobbit moaned. 'Mom?'  
  
Frodo stroked his forehead soothingly. 'Shhhhh,' he whispered. 'Time to get some shut-eye now, Pip.'  
  
Pippin's eyes popped open. 'Was I dreaming?' he said sleepily.  
  
Frodo nodded with a smile. 'I think so.'  
  
'What's a teddy bear?' the younger cousin asked, confused.  
  
'I have no idea,' Frodo answered fondly, 'so I don't think your wish is going to come true, at least not this day.'  
  
Their eyes were drawn by movement above as Legolas swung down out of a tree.  
  
Pippin greeted him cheerily. 'Hey, dude, s'happening?'  
  
The startled elf sought Aragorn's gaze. 'The little one is affected as well?' he asked soberly.  
  
'Hey! Who you calling a shrimp?' Pippin demanded. 'Them's fighting words.'  
  
'He didn't mean nothing by it,' Frodo soothed. 'Besides, you are a shrimp,' he chuckled. 'Now go back to sleep, youngster.'  
  
'I don't think anyone will get much sleep for the moment,' the elf said soberly. 'There's something out there.'  
  
The Ranger was instantly on the alert. 'What is it, Legolas?'  
  
The elf only shook his head. 'Whatever it is, it is clever at concealment. I have seen only the movement of the underbrush, when there was no wind.'  
  
'I wish Gandalf were here,' Aragorn muttered under his breath. 'Have you seen any sign of his return?'  
  
'None, yet. But he is also clever at concealment. He can move unseen when he wishes,' Legolas answered.  
  
'Wake Gimli,' the Ranger said. 'Tell him to be ready with his axe.' He turned to Frodo. 'Can you stand?'  
  
Frodo rose, swung his arms, stamped his feet. 'I'm a little shaky,' he said, 'but it's nothing to write home about.'  
  
'Good. Waken Sam. You two gather all the good throwing rocks you can, pile them near Merry. Pippin, you watch over Merry. If he begins to thrash or jerk, call me at once.'  
  
'You got that right,' Pippin nodded.  
  
Sam and Frodo found quite a few stones that fit nicely in the hand and had a satisfying heft. They made piles all around Merry, and at a word from Aragorn settled beside him again to wait and watch.  
  
Gimli built up the fire and set some meat roasting on sticks. The mouthwatering smell wafted to them on the breeze, bringing the hungry hobbits more completely awake, and when the dwarf brought the meat to them, they ate eagerly, careless of burnt fingers.  
  
'Whew, that hit the spot,' Sam said, licking his fingers. 'All it needs is a little brewsky to wash it down.'  
  
'Did you have to mention beer?' Frodo said. 'I was doing okay until you brought it up.'  
  
'A little hair of the dog would be swell right about now,' Pippin sighed in agreement. 'Any time's the right time for a beer, though.'  
  
'Shut up, Pipsqueak, I can't hear myself think. Keep it down to a dull roar, will you?' Sam said, then stood completely still, eyes wide with shock and horror. He extended a trembling hand to Pippin. 'O Mr Pippin,' he gasped. 'Please, I beg your pardon, I didn't mean...'  
  
'Don't sweat it, Sam, it's no skin off my teeth,' Pippin said comfortingly. 'If you piss me off too much, I'll just tell you to take a long walk off a short pier, you know that, Sam.'  
  
'Thanks, Mr Pippin,' Sam said, reassured. He looked up; Legolas had climbed back into his tree and was now urgently signalling those on the ground. 'Heads up!' the gardener added. 'I think we're about to see some action.' The three hobbits made a protective fence around Merry, stones in hand.  
  
They waited. Finally, Pippin breathed, 'Why doesn't something happen? I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.'  
  
'Take it easy, Pip,' Frodo said. 'Don't borrow trouble.' Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boromir and Aragorn, swords already drawn, reach down to take up some of the branches that had been thrust into the fire, while Gimli silently raised his axe. 'Don't look now...' he added.  
  
The glade erupted in wild shrieks and yells, and suddenly wild men came out of the underbrush, flying at them with upraised clubs and stone axes. The hobbits threw their rocks with devastating accuracy, Boromir and Aragorn swung their swords and torches, Gimli's axe found its mark more than once.  
  
A club connected with Sam's abdomen and he folded with a soft "Oof"; Frodo and Pippin were swept from their places by another attacker. One of the wild men paused above unconscious Merry, raising his club menacingly, only to fall with one of Legolas' arrows in his throat. The other hobbits dodged the wild man who'd dislodged them from their posts and returned to pick up more rocks, now standing over Merry's blanket-wrapped form and Sam's crumpled body.  
  
As another of the wild men pushed Frodo out of the way and bent to swing his club at the helpless hobbits on the ground, Frodo picked up a handful of the sandy dirt and dashed it in the Man's eyes, then grabbed his own club away from him and smashed it into a tender area. 'I'm really starting to get ticked,' he said menacingly. Blinded and in pain, the wild man stumbled away. Frodo hefted the club, ready for more. Pippin stared in astonishment at his usually mild cousin, then began to grin. 'Way to go, Frodo!' he cheered. 


	4. Muddling Through

Chapter 4. Muddling Through  
  
The wild men were coming on more cautiously, now, having seen that their superior numbers were not giving them the advantage they'd expected. Already half a dozen of their number lay unmoving upon the ground, while of the Fellowship, only Samwise had fallen.  
  
Frodo felt rage boiling within, such as he'd never known; he could only attribute it to the muddlewort affecting his senses. Though his head felt clear and every thought seemed to make perfect sense, a part of him stood watching in amaze and wonder.  
  
The wild men seemed to be targeting the hobbits as easier marks than the others. Another ducked past Gimli's axe, only to be confronted by Frodo and Pippin.  
  
Frodo held his club at the ready, eyes steadily meeting those of the hesitating Man. 'Go ahead, punk,' he said softly. 'Make my day.' The wild man feinted to the left and Frodo brought his club solidly down upon the other's foot, making him drop his weapon and hop on the uninjured member, shrilling curses.  
  
Pippin's stone caught him in the nose and he saw fit to turn and retreat in a stumbling run. Frodo cast a last stone at the wild man's back and caught him squarely in the rump, causing him to fall on his face. The wild man scrambled to his feet and staggered from the clearing. Suddenly all was still again.  
  
'Holy cow,' Pippin exclaimed, 'That was a nice shot! Right in the toucas!'  
  
'Yeah,' Frodo answered. 'He'll have a sore tush for awhile.' He dropped the club and bent to Sam. 'Sam? Can you hear me?'  
  
Strider was at his side in a moment. 'What happened?'  
  
'He took a shot below the belt,' Frodo said, helping Sam to sit up.  
  
'That was a gut-buster, all right,' Sam added, hands holding his abdomen.  
  
'Let me take a look,' Aragorn said. His examination seemed to relieve him, for he sat back on his heels and sighed. 'I don't think there was any serious damage done, Sam.'  
  
'He's one tough cookie,' Frodo said proudly, patting his gardener on the shoulder.  
  
'Thanks, Mr Frodo,' Sam said. 'You're a real Master of Disaster yourself, you know. And you're no pipsqueak, Mr Pippin,' he added. 'That was some solid sharp-shooting I saw before I took that low blow.'  
  
The others had been going over the bodies of the wild men. Now Boromir came up to them, bearing several leathern flasks. 'This might be of use,' he said. 'They carried a goodly supply of mead.'  
  
'Sounds pretty handy to me,' Sam said. 'What are you going to do with the bodies?'  
  
'Bury them away from the stream,' Aragorn said.  
  
Boromir nodded. 'We do not want to foul the water,' he said, 'Especially as we will be following this stream for some time.' He suddenly laid the flasks down to catch Pippin, who'd turned pale and started to sway. 'Steady, little one,' he said. 'You are still not over the effects of the muddlewort.' He eased him down on the blanket next to Merry.  
  
Turning back to scoop up a flask, he unstoppered it and wiped the mouth, then offered it to Pippin. 'You'll find this strengthening,' he said. 'Sometimes we'd trade with the wild men of Gondor for the mead they produced. It was a good thing to have after a battle.'  
  
Pippin took a sip, swirling the drink around in his mouth. 'Those dirty bums carried that?' he said in amazement. 'It tastes fit for a king!'  
  
Aragorn picked up one of the flasks and drank some of the contents. 'Yes,' he said, 'I do believe you have the right of it, Pippin.' He looked sharply at Frodo and Sam. 'You'd better sit down and take a bit of mead, yourselves.' Boromir handed each a flask, then the two Men turned back to the task of ordering the camp. Legolas had resumed his perch in the treetops, watching for any sign of the wild men's return. Gimli stood guard with his axe, glowering into the underbrush. All remained quiet.  
  
Pippin looked down at Merry, who had not moved. 'Too bad he's missing this,' he said. 'This stuff is even better than brandy.'  
  
Samwise settled back with a sigh and took another swig. 'You only go around once in life,' he mused.  
  
'Might as well go for the gusto,' Frodo agreed. They toasted, touching their flasks together, and had another gulp.  
  
'Hey, maybe Merry won't miss out after all,' Pippin said, brightening. 'I think he's waking up!' His cousin had begun to twitch.  
  
Frodo was suddenly stone cold sober. 'He's not waking up...' he said, then raising his voice, called urgently, 'Strider!'  
  
Merry jerked, then began to thrash violently. Strider was at his side in time to catch Pippin and pull him away. 'Don't touch him!' he warned. 'You could cause harm, to him, or to yourself.'  
  
They waited out the convulsions that racked the unconscious hobbit, and when the fit was over, the Ranger gently re-wrapped him in the blankets, calling to Gimli to heat some rocks in the fire to help warm him.  
  
Frodo looked down at his cousin in horror. He remembered the Ranger's words. Violent behaviour, convulsions... death. 'Is he... is he a goner, Strider?'  
  
The Ranger grasped the gist of his question. Placing a gentle hand on the Ring-bearer's shoulder, he said, 'I'm sorry, Frodo. If this were Rivendell, or Lorien, or even Minas Tirith for that matter, there would be herbs I could give him, to keep his heart going until the muddlewort wears off. But the muddlewort slows down the heartbeat, keeps slowing it until it finally stops, and I have nothing to keep it from happening.'  
  
'You're saying Merry's gonna croak?' Pippin whispered. He turned to Frodo. 'Cuz? Is that what he's saying?'  
  
'Don't give up the ship,' Frodo answered. 'While there's life, there's hope.'  
  
Strider nodded. 'He might yet survive, Pippin. No one knows exactly what to expect with muddlewort. Look how it has affected each of you to varying degrees.'  
  
'He's tough,' Frodo said, trying to add emphasis to the Ranger's reassurance. Pippin looked about to panic, but he saw his young cousin swallow hard and regain control of himself.  
  
'Tough as nails,' Pippin agreed. 'He won't give up without a fight.'  
  
'That's the spirit,' Sam said from the other side of Merry. He tucked the blankets about the hot rocks that Gimli brought over. 'Hang in there, Mr Merry. The party's not over, yet; don't be a party-pooper.'  
  
There was no sign that the unconscious hobbit heard him.  
  
Boromir came over again. 'They're buried,' he said. 'It wasn't hard, the soil is sandy here.' He looked around the campsite. 'It'll be growing dark soon,' he said. 'Do you want us to pack up?'  
  
The Ranger shook his head. 'The halflings are not yet ready to travel,' he said, 'and we cannot carry them all.' He looked down at Merry. 'I cannot help thinking that Meriadoc would be more comfortable here, where we can keep him warm and quiet, than jouncing about being carried on a dark trail.' Boromir nodded. 'We'll stay here,' the Ranger added, sorrow in his gaze, 'at least until...'  
  
He did not finish the thought, and though the words hung unspoken, all knew what had been left unsaid... 'until it is finished.'  
  
Pippin rose and stumbled a little away from the group. No one put out a hand to prevent him. He looked up through the trees, and words came to him, unfamiliar words, spurred by the muddlewort, probably, but words that seemed to fit the situation.  
  
'Star light,' he said. 'Star bright, first star I see tonight.'  
  
He stared into the darkening sky where a pinpoint of light could be seen. 'Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.' He squeezed his eyes tight shut and made a heartfelt wish. 


	5. Partly Muddled, with Signs of Clearing T...

Author's Note: This is a revised version of chapter 5, as a friend pointed out I had missed a golden opportunity for a couple of quotes from the original Star Trek series...  
  
***  
  
5. Partly Muddled, with Signs of Clearing Towards Morning  
  
Samwise and Frodo settled themselves for an uneasy watch.  
  
'Is there no hope at all, Mr Frodo?' Sam whispered.  
  
'Dammit, Jim, I'm a hobbit, not a doctor!' Frodo snapped. Sam's mouth twisted. Startled by his own words, Frodo got a hold of himself and put an apologetic hand on the gardener's arm. 'Slim to none, the Lone Ranger seems to be saying, Tonto,' he answered. Tears filled his eyes and he hugged Merry tenderly. 'I do not want to say this last long goodbye, Sam, nor see him go gentle into this good night.'  
  
Sam looked puzzled. 'That doesn't sound right, somehow, Mr Frodo.'  
  
Frodo shrugged. 'I know what it is I want to say, but the words won't come right.'  
  
'I know,' Sam sighed. 'It's the story of my life.' He saw Frodo stiffen in the growing gloom, and asked, 'What's up, dude?'  
  
'His breathing is slowing down,' Frodo answered. 'I can hardly see the respirations anymore.' Sam could see the glisten of tears on his cheeks. 'How are we going to break it to the pipsqueak?'  
  
'I heard that,' Pippin said. He was standing in the shadows nearby. 'Don't give me no jive, bro, I want it straight and I want it hot off the presses.'  
  
'Cold, more like,' Sam said. 'His hands have gone cold, his feet, too. I'm sorry, Mister Pipster, but he's going downhill fast.'  
  
'He's hardly breathing,' Frodo affirmed.  
  
'You guys shouldn't joke around like this,' Pippin said desperately.  
  
'I'm not jiving you, cuz,' Frodo said softly. 'You know that when the cards are on the table and the chips are down, I don't bluff.' He looked compassionately at his young cousin. 'Get some rest, Pippin. We'll call you when it's time to say the last goodbye.'  
  
'No!' Pippin said angrily, bending abruptly to hug his unconscious cousin. 'No, I'm gonna stick to him like... like... white on rice.'  
  
Aragorn came up to them. 'Legolas is tracking a deer; we ought to have fresh meat soon.'  
  
Pippin gave a little sob. 'What is it, Pippin?' Frodo asked gently.  
  
'It's just... like... I mean... like..."  
  
"Like... totally," Frodo said, commiserating.  
  
'I don't think I could eat anything,' Pippin said. He looked up at the Ranger. 'O Strider, I can't believe you're not going to pull our chestnuts out of the fire...'  
  
'Chestnuts?' the Ranger said, confused. 'It's the wrong time of year...'  
  
'...or pull a rabbit out of a hat...' Pippin continued.  
  
'No rabbits, but we will have some venison soon, I hope,' the Ranger said reassuringly.  
  
'Merry could use a good hat trick about now,' Sam said. Strider stared at him. Evidently the hobbits could understand one another, after a fashion, but for the life of him he could not comprehend half the words they said.  
  
'A little "deus ex machina" would come in handy,' Frodo agreed. 'But I don't see any cavalry coming over the hill, d'you, Sam?' Aragorn shook his head, giving over the attempt to understand, and squeezing Pippin's shoulder, he got up to meet the elf, to help butcher the deer Legolas was bringing into the clearing over his shoulder.  
  
Boromir crouched, using his knife to help strip off the deer hide and skillfully freed a haunch to roast on the fire that Gimli had renewed. 'How is Meriadoc?' he said softly.  
  
'Sinking fast,' the Ranger answered. 'I wish there were something...'  
  
The man of Gondor shook his head. 'At this point, even were he in the Houses of Healing in the White City, there would be little to be done.'  
  
'We'll bury him in the morning, rest the day, and continue when night falls again,' Aragorn said. Boromir nodded, and took the haunch to the fire. Legolas started to climb back into the tree, only to stop with a glad cry. The others turned, to see a tall grey figure standing at the edge of the glade.  
  
'Some watch you set,' the wizard scowled. 'I could have slit half a dozen throats before you noticed me.'  
  
'We were watching,' Strider answered quietly. 'But our best efforts would not reveal you to our sight, should you choose to walk unseen.' He nodded to the cluster of hobbits. 'You come in good time to take your leave of Meriadoc.'  
  
'What?' Gandalf said, startled out of his usual calm.  
  
'Anachronos,' the Ranger said simply. 'We went through a patch of mint earlier today...' he didn't have to explain further.  
  
'How many are affected?'  
  
'Just the halflings,' the Ranger replied, then sighed. 'All the halflings, that is.'  
  
'All?' the wizard demanded. 'The Ring-bearer as well?'  
  
'All,' the Ranger confirmed. 'Only one fatally, however.' He sighed, adding bitterly, with a snort, '*Only*.'  
  
'He's dead already?' Gandalf muttered.  
  
'All but dead,' Aragorn answered, but was startled at the wizard's reaction. Gandalf, galvanized by the Ranger's answer, leapt over to the huddle of hobbits in great strides.  
  
Pippin looked up from where he cradled Merry, sniffling, tears running down his face. 'Holy smoke, Grampa,' he said raggedly, 'where the heck have you been, dagnabbit?' The others froze, waiting for Gandalf to explode, or turn him into a toad at the very least, but the wizard only chuckled, reaching out a gentle hand to cup the small tearful face.  
  
'How is Merry?' he asked softly.  
  
'On his last legs,' Sam answered, 'if you catch my drift.'  
  
The wizard bent to the still form, fumbling in a pocket of his robes. 'I have something from Rivendell,' he said, 'to be used only at extreme need. It will strengthen a failing heart.' He looked up at the others, who had followed him, except for Gimli, who stayed on watch. 'I need hot water, at once.'  
  
By the dim light of the torch set in the ground nearby, they saw him take out a small, carven box. He slid open the lid to reveal a dark powder, a tiny tube fashioned from a slender reed nestled on top.  
  
Boromir silently brought a cup of steaming water. The wizard poured out all but a tiny amount, adding a pinch of powder to the remnant, stirring with the tube. He bent again to the ground. 'Hold his head back,' he said. 'I'm going to have to blow this up his nose, it is the only way to get the medicine into him at this point.'  
  
'Blow it up his nose?' Pippin said in outrage. 'You guys gonna stand by and let him do that?'  
  
'Don't have a cow, man,' Samwise said reassuringly. 'The wiz knows what he's doing, I bet.'  
  
'Just do it,' Frodo said. 'He's hardly breathing as it is.'  
  
'As long as his heart beats, there's a chance,' Gandalf said.  
  
Boromir took up one of the tiny wrists. 'It is the merest flutter,' he said soberly.  
  
'Hold him steady, now,' Gandalf said. He put the tube to his lips and sucked up some of the medicine from the bottom of the cup.  
  
'Cross your fingers,' Frodo said to all and nobody.  
  
'I'm holding my breath,' Samwise answered. Pippin had nothing to say.  
  
While Aragorn bent back Merry's head, the wizard inserted the other end of the slender tube into the hobbit's nostril and blew. The others watched for some reaction, surely Merry would fight and buck under such treatment, but he remained deathly still. They could not even see the rise and fall of his chest under the blankets. The wizard repeated the process, blowing medicine into the other nostril, then rose and stepped back. 'Only time will tell,' he said.  
  
Aragorn eased Merry's head back down, smoothing the disordered curls before moving back, hand on the other tiny wrist. Sam and Frodo moved in from either side to support the dying hobbit. Pippin threw himself on his cousin, head to Merry's chest, listening to the slowing heartbeat. 'Don't leave me, Merry!' he cried miserably. He heard the heart miss a beat and his own heart dropped to his toes. 'Merry!' he whispered. The heart missed another beat, and Boromir looked up at the others and shook his head. Aragorn released the limp wrist and sat back. It was over, then.  
  
'He's dead, Jim,' Frodo said softly.  
  
Then Pippin gave a cry, and Aragorn closed his eyes in grief. But no, the youngest hobbit was sobbing, not in grief, but relief... 'O Merry, this is awesome, it's fantastic, how could you do this to me? I'm... like... totally wasted.'  
  
'No way,' Frodo said, unbelieving hope growing in his heart.  
  
'Way!' Pippin maintained, a grin on his face.  
  
'His heart is gaining strength,' Boromir confirmed, and Aragorn took up the wrist again, shifted his grip slightly, to feel for himself the increasing pulse.  
  
'Far out,' Frodo breathed.  
  
'Rad. Like, totally,' Sam said.  
  
'Way cool,' Frodo agreed.  
  
'What under the overheaven are they talking about?' Legolas said, thoroughly lost.  
  
Boromir smiled. 'I think that Merry has turned a corner.'  
  
'Did you have some of that muddlewort too?' the elf asked, brows narrowing.  
  
'No, it's just something I heard a guardsman say once. I've seen muddlewort at work before, you know,' he said. 'Seemed to fit in this case.' 


	6. Mostly Clear, with Occasional Muddles

Chapter 6. Mostly Clear, with Occasional Muddles  
  
Some time before dawn, Merry groaned and tried to open his eyes. Pippin gave a glad cry and the other dozing hobbits woke at once. 'Merry?' Frodo said softly. 'Merry, can you hear me?'  
  
'Who turned out the lights?' Merry moaned.  
  
'It's dark, Merry, and you have your eyes closed,' Pippin said. 'Look at me, Mer, I'm right here.'  
  
'Jeepers creepers, open up those peepers,' Frodo said urgently.  
  
Merry blinked, tried to focus on the faces surrounding him, finally met Frodo's eye. 'Hey there, cuz,' he said blearily. 'What's new?'  
  
'Snoo with you?' Frodo answered with a smile. 'How goes it?'  
  
'It goes,' Merry answered. 'At least, I think it does. Takes a licking and keeps on ticking.' He tried to sit up, and three pairs of hobbit hands helped him. 'Watch that last step,' he said, 'it's a doozy.' Raising one hand to rub his head, he said, 'Whew. I sure could use a mocha latte right about now.'  
  
'A what?' Pippin asked, wanting to be helpful but not sure of what his cousin was saying.  
  
'You know,' Merry said, 'a cup of joe.'  
  
Pippin seized on the one familiar word. 'Cup,' he said brightly. 'Coming right up!' He shook his head; his own speech was yet a bit muddled though his head had been growing clearer through the long night. He rose and went to the fire, where Boromir and Gimli sat warming their hands. 'Merry's awake!' he said cheerfully.  
  
'Is he talking?' Boromir said.  
  
'Well, he's said a few words. I don't know that I would call it talking,' Pippin said cautiously. 'But I think he just asked for a cup of tea.' Soon he had a steaming cup in his hands.  
  
As he handed it to Merry, his cousin murmured, 'Bodacious thanks, Pip.' He sipped, then sighed. 'That hits the spot.' He looked up at the staring hobbits surrounding him. 'What's the deal, here?'  
  
'You took us on a real roller coaster ride,' Frodo said.  
  
'I did?'  
  
Frodo nodded. 'Yup. Nearly kicked the bucket.'  
  
'Almost snuffed, eh?' Merry said.  
  
Pippin looked at Sam. 'Are you getting any of this?'  
  
Sam shook his head. 'Hardly a word,' he answered, then turning back to Merry, he said, 'Are you hungry, Mr Merry? I could bring you some breakfast.'  
  
'I wouldn't turn down an offer of chow,' Merry said pleasantly, then put a hand to his head and winced.  
  
'What is it, Merry?' Pippin asked anxiously.  
  
'I got a migraine like you wouldn't believe,' his cousin answered.  
  
'Migraine? What's that?'  
  
Frodo put in helpfully, 'Excedrin headache number fifty-seven, no doubt.'  
  
'You got that right, cuz,' Merry said.  
  
Pippin seized on the one word that made sense. 'Your head hurts?'  
  
'Give the man a cigar,' Merry answered. He took a deep breath and said, 'And why does my nose feel numb?'  
  
'Gandalf had to blow some medicine into your nostrils, Mr Merry, it was the only way he could get it into you,' Samwise said softly.  
  
'Up my nose with a rubber hose, eh?' Merry said. 'Okey dokey, works for me.' He moved his shoulders and winced.  
  
'Stiff and sore?' Frodo asked.  
  
'Yeah. Feel like I was rode hard and put away wet,' Merry answered.  
  
'Me too,' Frodo said. 'Just take two aspirins and call me in the morning.' He and Merry chuckled whilst the other two hobbits looked on, mystified. Aragorn had joined the little group while they were talking; now he crouched on his heels to address the hobbits.  
  
'How stiff are you?' he asked.  
  
Pippin rotated his own arms. 'Not bad,' he said. Samwise wasn't stiff at all, and only sore where the club had connected during the battle. But Frodo was significantly stiff, and Merry was in misery.  
  
'Frodo,' the Ranger said, 'I think the muddlewort may have affected you more than we thought. Did you have feelings of uncontrollable rage during the battle?'  
  
Frodo thought deeply. 'Not uncontrollable,' he said, 'but yes, I was honkin' mad.'  
  
Samwise said apprehensively, 'Does he need medicine... like Mr Merry did?' Frodo unconsciously put a protective hand to his nose.  
  
Aragorn smiled. 'No, Sam,' he said. 'Enough time has passed that I think I can safely say the worst is over. It will take time for the effects to wear off completely, of course.' He picked up two of the leathern flasks, shaking them to ascertain the contents. 'More than half full,' he said to himself. He extended one to Merry and the other to Frodo. 'Here,' he said. 'This should help the stiffness.'  
  
Merry shot him a questioning look as he unstoppered his flask. 'Somebody go shopping?' he said.  
  
Only Frodo seemed to understand. 'No,' he answered, 'We had a party yesterday, it was a B.Y.O.B. This got left over.'  
  
Merry took a pull at the flask and his face brightened. 'I wonder why,' he said. 'This is good stuff, nectar of the gods.'  
  
'It's the real thing,' Frodo agreed, taking a generous swig from his own flask.  
  
'Why are you looking at us like that?' Merry asked Pippin. 'You look as if you think we've lost our marbles.'  
  
'Bats in the belfry,' Frodo added.  
  
'I admit I'm not running on all four cylinders right now,' Merry added, 'but aside from the jackhammer in my head and a serious Big Mac attack I'm sitting pretty.' He sipped again. 'Ahhh,' he said, 'that's just what the doctor ordered.'  
  
'Big Mac attack?' Pippin said, mystified. 'No, you slept through the battle.'  
  
'He means he wants you to round up some chow,' Frodo explained. The explanation didn't seem to explain anything, though.  
  
Aragorn said, 'I expect you're hungry, Merry, you've missed a few meals. I'll go see what I can find.'  
  
'Good man, you do that,' Merry said appreciatively. He looked again at Pippin. 'What?'  
  
'I can't understand a word you're saying,' Pippin said sadly.  
  
'O you were just as bad, earlier, cousin,' Frodo said cheerfully.  
  
'I cannot believe that,' Pippin shook his head.  
  
Frodo nodded solemnly. 'O yeah, indubitably. You even called Gandalf "Grampa".'  
  
'I didn't!' Pippin said hotly. As the other hobbits nodded at him, he collapsed in horror, hands to his head. 'I didn't,' he repeated softly, 'I couldn't have-- he's going to turn me into a toad for sure!'  
  
'He'll probably wait until we get back to the Shire,' Frodo said comfortingly. 'After all, a toad couldn't carry many supplies, could he.'  
  
Aragorn returned balancing two plates heaped with food, for Frodo and Merry, telling Sam and Pippin that their own food awaited them by the fire.  
  
Merry took the generous plate with a broad grin; this was much more than the scanty trail rations they were used to getting, but Aragorn believed that the food would help them fight the effects of the poison. Merry took a bite of stew and sighed. 'You da man!' he said to Aragorn.  
  
'Indeed,' the Ranger said dryly. 'I'll leave you to your meal,' he said. 'Just call if you need anything.'  
  
'I know how to whistle,' Merry said irrelevantly. 'You just put your lips together and blow.' He and Frodo dissolved in laughter, while the Ranger retreated with as much dignity as he could muster.  
  
Pippin was very cautious and polite as he sat himself down with his plate. When Gandalf looked over with a smile, he cringed. 'Is there anything I can do for you, G-Gandalf?' he said.  
  
'No, Peregrin, I have all I need. How are you feeling?'  
  
'Just fine, G-Gandalf,' the young hobbit stammered.  
  
'Eat your food, then, before it gets cold,' the wizard said gently. Pippin fell to immediately, keeping his eyes for the most part on his plate.  
  
From the blankets where Frodo and Merry were sitting, a song arose. It sounded a bit different from the usual hobbit fare, and as it went on it became evident that this particular song would be annoyingly repetitious. Boromir had not been paying much attention at first, but the song ate into his consciousness until he could not avoid listening. '...there'll be seventy-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Seventy-nine bottles of beer on the wall, seventy-nine bottles of beer...'  
  
'What in the world?' Legolas said, sitting down by the fire to take his own meal as Aragorn took over the watch.  
  
'You have to admit it's a catchy tune,' Boromir said.  
  
'Catchy?' Gimli grumbled. 'Impossible to avoid, would be my thinking.'  
  
'How long will it go on?' the elf said.  
  
'O, another seventy-five bottles or so, I'd say,' Boromir said, taking another bite of his stew. 


	7. Muddling On Along

**7. Muddling On Along**  
  
It was a relief when the last bottle of beer was finished and the song ended. Sad to say, the concert continued. The reluctant audience realized it was another repetitious song somewhere in the midst of the second verse. '...just now. Just now I cracked it open, cracked it open just now.'  
  
'O no,' Boromir said softly as the song continued to drift over from the cluster of hobbits, Sam and Pippin joining in as the words were fairly easy to pick up on. 'It was rotten, it was rotten, it was rotten just now, Just now...'  
  
Song followed song. Time passed with no signs of the music abating. Just after Gimli took Aragorn's place on watch, the hobbits seemed overcome with uncontrollable laughter, and the unwilling spectators by the fire began to listen in spite of themselves, only to hear utter nonsense spouting from the diminutive singers.   
  
_Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro?  
Can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow?  
Can you throw them over your shoulder like a Minas Tirith soldier,  
Do your ears hang low?_  
  
As if this wasn't bad enough, they began on another verse.  
  
_Do your ears hang high, do they wobble in the sky?  
Can you tie them in a knot, can you bake them in a pie?_  
  
At last, as this absurd song ended and another began, Gandalf rose abruptly from the fireside, to walk over to the hobbits. The song broke off, and Pippin looked up nervously. 'G-gandalf?' he stammered. 'Is there something we can do for you?'  
  
'I think we have had enough of your delightful serenade, my lads. You will need to rest, now, for we will be moving on again at sunset.'  
  
Pippin nodded vigorously. 'O yes, G-gandalf, certainly.' Turning to his cousins, he exhorted them to snuggle under the blankets and rest.  
  
Returning to the fire, Gandalf chuckled under his breath. Aragorn fixed him with a keen eye. 'Peregrin thinks you plan to turn him into a toad.'  
  
The wizard nodded thoughtfully. 'Ah, yes.'  
  
'Do you plan to correct his thinking anytime soon?'  
  
The corners of Gandalf's mouth quirked. 'I would hate to disillusion him... besides, I imagine he will be on his best behaviour for another day, perhaps two.'  
  
'Ah.' The Ranger nodded wisely, as did Boromir and Legolas. Gimli snorted softly from nearby, where he stood watch.  
  
Merry was bowing to the other hobbits' clapping. 'Thank you very much,' he said in a peculiar voice, and then said, 'I would like to thank my mum, for her undying faith and support, my fellow cast members, the members of the Academy...'  
  
'Tell it to the marines,' Frodo broke in, then yawned abruptly. Samwise was immediately solicitous.  
  
'Here, Mr Frodo, lie down here and let me cover you up,' he urged.   
  
'So I nearly bit the dust?' Merry asked sleepily as Sam tucked a blanket around Frodo.  
  
Frodo nodded slowly. 'Yup,' he said, yawning again. 'Gandalf came in the nick of time.' His eyes closed even as he spoke.  
  
'Hot diggety dog,' Merry murmured. 'Trust Gandalf to save the day.'  
  
'Darned tootin',' Frodo answered without opening his eyes. 'Dadgum if it wasn't the awesomest thing I've seen in a dog's age.' He took a deep breath and relaxed into sleep.  
  
Pippin collapsed against Frodo's other side and was quickly snoring. Merry sank gently down against Pippin, and Samwise, blinking owlishly, made sure that all were securely covered before rolling himself in his own blanket up against Frodo. Soon blessed snores took the place of the earlier... ummm.... music.  
  
The hobbits slept through the rest of the day, rising refreshed and ready to travel as the sun was setting. They had another filling meal of venison, then packed up the camp. Aragorn checked the hobbits over and pronounced all but Merry completely recovered.  
  
'You can say that again, Uncle,' Merry yawned. 'I feel like crap.'  
  
'What was that, cousin?' Frodo asked, placing a gentle hand on Merry's shoulder.  
  
'You know, like I've been run over by a bulldozer,' Merry elucidated.  
  
'You're not feeling well, yet?' Frodo asked.  
  
'Isn't that what I just said?' Merry asked.  
  
'No,' Frodo answered. 'At least, I don't think so.'  
  
'What we have here,' Merry said slowly, 'is a failure to communicate.'  
  
'Yes, cousin,' Frodo said patiently. He looked up at Aragorn. 'Strider, what's to be done?'  
  
The Ranger knelt to look the Ring-bearer in the eye. 'We will take turns carrying Meriadoc this night,' he said. 'After a full day's rest tomorrow he ought to be fully recovered and fit to travel.'  
  
Boromir stepped up. 'I'll take the first turn,' he said.  
  
Merry whistled shrilly, waved a peremptory hand at Boromir. 'Taxi!' he called.  
  
Boromir smiled and lifted him. 'Upsy-daisy!' Merry said.   
  
'Indeed,' Boromir agreed.  
  
The rest of the party shouldered their packs and began to walk. Merry began to sing softly. 'Pardon me, boys, is that the Chattanooga Choo-choo?' At least it was a pleasant enough tune, and not as annoyingly repetitious as the earlier songs had been.  
  
The respite was brief, however, for all too soon Merry had returned to one of the earlier songs. 'Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer...' Boromir joined in, harmonizing nicely, and the song followed them across the leagues and into the night.  
  
'How long does it go on?' Frodo muttered to Samwise, who was too discrete to answer. Pippin, however, had no thought of preserving Frodo's dignity. 'You ought to know, cousin, you sang every blessed verse along with Merry this morning.'  
  
'No!' Frodo protested.  
  
'O yes,' Pippin said earnestly. 'Every one.'  
  
Frodo turned to Sam for defence against this blatantly false charge. 'He's joking, isn't he, Sam? I cannot believe...'  
  
Sam shook his head sadly. 'I'm sorry, Mr Frodo,' he said miserably. Frodo was left speechless.  
  
Finally the song ended. A collective sigh was heard from the rest of the Company. Then the next song began. Being another repetitious song, Boromir quickly picked up on the words and tune, and the harmony followed them as they walked the night away.  
  
_The ants go marching one by one, halloo, halloo  
The ants go marching one by one, halloo, halloo  
The ants go marching one by one, the little one stops to suck his thumb  
And they all go marching DOWN to the EARTH to get OUT of the RAIN, bum bum bum..._  
  
*THE END*  
*******  
Please see next chapter (coming soon!) for a special video preview.


	8. Coming Soon!

Chapter 8. Coming Attractions  
  
The following preview has been rated PG (Pretty Goofy). Viewer discretion is advised.  
  
Coming soon to a Theatre of the Absurd near you:  
  
"Leggie"  
  
Synopsis: Legolas the elf accidentally ingests a substance that makes him bark like a dog.  
  
***  
  
Boromir: What's the matter with him?  
  
Samwise: It's almost as if... as if...  
  
Frodo: What, Sam?  
  
Samwise: ...as if he's got hold of some dogwood, somehow.  
  
Merry: (in shock) Dogwood? But that's deadly stuff!  
  
Samwise: Mayhap it affects elves different from hobbits.  
  
Legolas: (whine)  
  
Boromir: He seems to want us to follow him.  
  
Legolas: (barkbark... bark!)  
  
Aragorn: What is it, Legolas?  
  
Legolas (woof woofwoof snarl whine...?)  
  
Boromir: He does want us to follow him! Look! He keeps looking back at us!  
  
Gimli: Where are you leading us, elf?  
  
Legolas: (growl)  
  
Aragorn, concentration writ large over his features: Tell us again, Legolas. What is it?  
  
Legolas: (woof woofwoof snarl whine...?)  
  
Frodo: Pippin fell in the well?  
  
Legolas: (excited barking)  
  
*****  
  
Later, after Pippin is rescued from abandoned well...  
  
Aragorn: I wish we could do something to help Legolas.  
  
Gimli: Och aye, all that whining's getting on my nerves.  
  
Legolas: (growl)  
  
Samwise: Well, there was a remedy I remember from the Shire... I have some in my pack, just give me some hot water and I'll brew him a cup of tea.  
  
Gimli: But will he be able to drink enough to make a difference, lapping like a dog the way he does?  
  
Legolas: (growl snarl)  
  
Frodo: Ahhhh, Gimli, I think maybe you ought to... ummmm... gather some more wood for the fire.  
  
Gimli: (grumbling, leaves the group)  
  
Boromir: Here's a mug of water, fresh from the boil.  
  
Samwise: Let me see, now, I know I had some packets of herbs in my pack...  
  
Frodo: Sam, what's a jar of peaches* doing in your pack?  
  
Sam: O, it's just a little something I threw in, just in case we might need it.  
  
Pippin: What about the solar calculator and portable shortwave radio?  
  
Samwise: Ah, here it is! I just add this mixture and stir, now we'll cover it and wait...  
  
Merry: Is that what I think it is?  
  
Samwise: (sotto voce) shhhh, let's just see if it works as well for an elf as it did for Fatty Bolger. Here, Legolas, drink this up.  
  
Legolas: (lapping from cup)  
  
Samwise: Good boy.  
  
Legolas: (growl)  
  
Samwise: I mean, good elf. I mean...  
  
Frodo: You had better quit while you're ahead, Sam.  
  
Gimli: (returning) Whew, the stuff sure smells strong enough. Bet it'll put hair on your chest.  
  
Legolas: (growl snarl)  
  
Gimli: It were only a joke, laddie, don't take it personal, like!  
  
Pippin: (excitedly) Look! He's trying to speak!  
  
Legolas: (Meow! Meow meow!)  
  
Samwise: (sigh) Must've mixed too much cattail in...  
  
*about the jar of peaches. I don't remember whose story had a jar of peaches in it. I loved it, I really did, I am not making fun of you. It is just that, your jar of peaches got me thinking about exactly what all Samwise is carrying in his pack. Every time someone mentions him digging in his pack I think about that jar of peaches, and all the other things that must be in there... everything, you know, just everything, except, of course, some rope, which he didn't get until Lorien. 


End file.
